


Nein Mighty Drabbles

by Roshwen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dead Tiefling Tea might be a bad idea, Drabble Collection, General spoilers for Campaign 2, Multi, Nott is a worried Mom, Something's not right with this rescue mission, The way Molly would want to be remembered, will add tags as we go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: What it says on the tin: a collection of loose, unrelated drabbles about the Mighty Nein. There might be more than nine, though. Or less. I don't know.





	1. Kenku concerns

The darkness is damp and oppressive around them, and their last conversation has left Nott feeling… al kinds of things that she is not quite sure what to do with. However. Before she turns around on her cramped cot and tries to get some sleep, there is one thing she just has to ask.

‘Caleb?’

There’s a hum from the other cot that almost sounds like a: ‘Ja?’

‘Do you think she’s safe in there?’

A pause, and then a shifting sound as Caleb turns around. ‘Who do you mean?’

‘The bird… thing… girl… child. Bird baby.’

‘Oh.’ Caleb pauses. ‘ _What_ do you mean?’

Nott sits up, gesticulating to get her point across even though she knows he can’t see. ‘Well it’s just… we left her with Jester. And Beau. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Beau doesn’t exactly have the best track record with not hurting little girls.’

There’s a long silence as Caleb lets that sink in. ‘Hmm. Good point.’ He falls quiet again, and even though Nott can’t make him out in the pitch black room, she knows he’s rubbing his chin as he ponders the problem. Then he breathes out and says in a decided, I’m-not-going-to-deal-with-this-I-just-want-to-go-to-sleep voice: ‘But I’m sure Kiri will be alright. You know, Jester is there as well.’

Nott’s already stressed out heart rate goes up another notch. ‘Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m worried about.’

‘She’ll be fine.’ There’s another shifting sound as Caleb lies back down, wriggling a little to find the least uncomfortable bit on the thing that is supposed to be a mattress. ‘Just go to sleep.’

\---

_Two rooms over…_

 ‘Oskar!’

‘Oh my god, Jester, make it stop!’

‘Oskar Oskar _Oskar_!’

‘No, Beau, look! I think she really gets the book! Oskar!’

‘OSKAR!’

‘… I should’ve left the both of you to the gators.’

 


	2. A New Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a year later, Nott and Caleb find themselves trying out a new set play.

About a year later, when the Mighty Nein have gained fame and, more importantly, fortune all across the Dwendalian Empire, Caleb and Nott find themselves on the way to the Menagerie Coast.

It’s just the two of them. Beau and Yasha are on their way to Kamordah because Yasha has some not-so-sweet words for Beau’s father. Jester and Fjord are... somewhere. No one asked, and they didn’t tell, but it seemed to involve a lot of sailing and a lot of ‘bunnying,’ as Jester called it, so Caleb and Nott quickly excused themselves, turned around ran away as fast as their horses could carry them.

Now they are two days out of Port Damali. It is nearing dusk, and they have set up camp a little ways off the road, with Caleb’s trusted silver thread keeping any intruders from coming too close. The sky is cloudless, has been so all week, and is almost purple this late in the day. The birdsong is replaced by the chirping and buzzing of insects and crickets, a soothing soundtrack after a long day of travel.

Nott is munching on her dinner of fried squirrel, while Caleb is poking the fire to life. It is quiet; the road stretches out empty behind them and in front of them, despite being quite close to the city now.

They don’t mind. The fewer people around, the better. Usually.

‘Caleb,’ Nott asks finally, once the squirrel is nothing but a pile of clean bones, ‘do you... do you remember the set plays we used to do?’

Caleb looks up. The fire is now burning merrily away, and will do so for the next couple of hours, so he sits back. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Do you ever miss them?’ Nott asks. ‘I mean, I know we only did them because we needed the money and we don’t need the money anymore, but, well, they were kinda fun, right? Like, when we were attacked by other goblins and we did Modern Literature ?’

The corner of Caleb’s mouth quirks into a smile. ‘Ja. You know, I think Jester is still angry with me for that one.’

Nott sniggers, and there’s a brief pause before Caleb continues: ‘Do you want to do a play, then? When we get to the city?’

Nott shrugs. ‘Maybe. But not one of the old ones, because the old ones aren’t… well, they’re for robbing people and we don’t want to do that anymore. Do we?’

‘No,’ Caleb says softly, giving the fire another stab with the poker stick. ‘No, I don’t think we want to do that anymore either. But, maybe we could come up with a new one?’

The fire light shines on Nott’s teeth as she grins her widest grin. ‘That sounds like fun.’

\--

Two days later, an Ice Prince from the far off Zemnian Fields enters Port Damali, accompanied by his tame goblin pet. They draw a lot of attention and adoration in the highest echelons of the city, and spend a full two weeks being wined and dined by all the fancy folk in town before they vanish again without a trace. Leaving some people (mainly people of the young, female and romantic persuasion) disappointed, some people (mainly people of the old, male, suspicious and grumpy persuasion) relieved.

(Some people, mainly those with large libraries in their overly large mansions, might also find themselves relieved of some books. Both their scientific collection and their secred smut stash seems to have been raided with equal fervor).

\--

‘That was fun!’ Nott grins, dismounting from her horse now that they are at a safe distance from the city. ‘Let’s try that one again sometime! Maybe we can go over to Tal’Dorei and see how long we can keep it up over there?’

Caleb laughs. ‘Sure. Why not. Or we can do the opposite, take Jester to the Zemnian Fields and tell people she’s a princess.’

‘Oh, she’d love that,’ Nott says, sniggering at the idea. ‘But if we’re gonna do this again, then we’d need a name too. If this really is going to be a set play, we should put it in the book and give it a name.’

‘I already have,’ Caleb says, his laugh softening to a smile. He takes the battered play book out of the saddle bag and hands it to Nott. ‘Here, have a look.’

Nott’s eyes widen a little in surprise, but she takes the book and starts leafing through it until she gets to the final play. Her eyes grow even wider and she goes very still for a moment before she closes the book again and hands it back to Caleb. ‘That’s… yeah. That’s a good name.’

‘The Mollymauk,’ Caleb says softly as he takes the book and puts it back into the saddle bag. ‘Yes. I thought so too.’


	3. Something's not right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they open the door to Fjord's cell, it’s Beau, Caleb and Nott. Molly must be outside, on the lookout or dealing with potential guards. Right?

When they open the door to the cell, it’s Beau, Caleb and Nott, all three rushing forward to unlock the manacles, helping them up and supporting them towards the door, up the stairs and out of that bloody, bloody house. Molly must be outside, on the lookout or dealing with potential guards.

Personally, Fjord would have thought that was a job for Caleb. But as Beau slings Yasha’s arm over her shoulder, all but carrying her out the door, Fjord finds he’s not exactly arguing with the plan if it gets them all out alive.

They get outside. They get all the prisoners outside, and there they meet a surly dwarf and a weeping firbolg, who only utters the word _Asar, Asar, Asar_ over and over again. Molly must be further off into the woods, guarding the horses or something, or standing by with the getaway cart. It’s a bit of a weird position for him, but once again, Fjord is not in the mood to ask questions. He’s too busy making sure Jester stays upright and conscious, and does not try to heal anybody while she’s this weak.

They get to the getaway cart and get the hell out of the forest. _After_ they stood by and watched how Caleb, firing firebolt after firebolt after firebolt, turned the place into a smoking crater.

That was odd, Fjord thought. Not just the fact that Caleb seemed _very_ eager to burn something, or that he did so with a focus and determination that were more terrifying than anything Fjord had seen up until now, but the fact that Molly was not there, gleefully laughing and clapping Caleb on the shoulder while the trinkets in his horns sparkled in the fire light.

He must still be in the town. Fjord couldn’t think why that would be the case, but they probably had a damn good reason. Perhaps he was working the political angle, making sure that destroying this group of slavers did not backfire on them.

Yes. That was probably it. Still odd, but plausible. Very plausible, in fact, and Fjord doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before.

They get to the town. And when Fjord sees that they are spending the night in a brothel, a strange relief washes over him. Because of course there is no way you would get Mollymauk Tealeaf out of a brothel if his life didn’t depend on it. They’d find him inside, lounging on a bed, snacking of peeled grapes with entirely too many naked people surrounding him. He probably hasn’t even noticed the others were gone yet, the fucking asshole.

Until Caleb, Nott and Beau take them inside. And upstairs. And the firbolg and the dwarf are still with them, and the firbolg is still crying, but there’s no Molly.

The door to their rooms opens. It’s empty.

Fjord turns around.

‘Where’s Molly?’

Beau stops. Breathes in. Then shoulders Yasha a little higher and walks into the other room without a word.

Fjord looks to Caleb.

‘Caleb?’

Caleb doesn’t say anything either.

And that’s when Fjord knows.


	4. Have a cuppa tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing wrong with dead people tea. But you might want to think twice when the dead people in question are called Mollymauk Tealeaf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK this is going to be my last Molly mourning thing, I promise. After this, it's nothing but norman Nein shenanigans and no more dying (I hope). Enjoy and come yell at me for this on [Tumblr](http://hedgehog-o-brien.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> (Also, I'm aware that not all of this is canon. But it should have been).

It is nearing the end of Fessuran again, and by some unspoken agreement, the band of misfits finds themselves travelling up the Glory Run Road again. They make their way past the Crispvale Thicket, where Fjord, Jester and Caduceus meet with a small, but happy clan of Firbolgs who welcome them with open arms, offering them a meal that could feed the entire clan for about a week and taking them in for a long and safe night’s rest, for what that’s worth out here.

The next day, they travel only a little further. They come to a stop barely five miles out of the Thicket when they dismount, tie up their horses and walk over to the mound by the side of the road.

Silence falls, punctuated only by the soft breeze rustling through the trees and the sharp cry of some kind of raptor overhead. Other than that, there is nothing but quiet peace surrounding them as they take in the sight in front of them.

It takes them a while. But then Caleb shakes his head and says ‘ _oh verdammter arschlog’,_ Beau rolls her eyes and at the same time mutters ‘oh the fucking _asshole,’_ and they both burst out laughing. Nott starts giggling, and the deep, rumbling chuckles of Fjord follows suit, so that for a minute, the quiet road comes alive with the sound of near-hysterical laughter.

Because whoever said that nature has a classic beauty has obviously never met Mollymauk Tealeaf. The side of the hill is absolutely covered with flowers, in all shapes and sizes and in all the colors of the rainbow. Red poppies, blue lotus, orange marigolds, yellow damianas, pink and purple snapdragons, a hundred different kinds in a hundred differend shapes and sizes and hues all come together in a magnificently gaudy blanket that clashes horrendously with the green grass around it and that hurts the eyes of any poor soul who looks at it for too long. It more than makes up for the empty pole standing there, because no coat could ever come close to the violently colorful spectacle on the ground.

‘I think it’s pretty,’ Jester says when the laughter has died down a bit. She is smiling too, smiling even wider as Fjord looks down and reaches out to pull her a little closer to his side. ‘It definitely suits him,’ he agrees, still grinning. Then he looks back, to where Caduceus is waiting at a respectful distance. ‘Did you do this?’

Caduceus shakes his head, a soft look in his pink eyes. ‘I have no say in… the end result, as it were. That is all up to them.’

‘Of course it is,’ Fjord mutters, before Nott pipes up, looking a little thoughtful: ‘Mr. Clay, uhm. Can you. Can you make these flowers into tea?’

That produces a deep silence for an entire second, before Beau gently asks Nott: ‘You want to have tea with Molly?’

Nott nods, still not taking her eyes of Caduceus, who nods back. ‘I could do that,’ he replies, already turning back to the horses to go get his tea making supplies.

‘You know, I understand the sentiment,’ Caleb says slowly, still staring at the colorful eyesore in front of them, ‘but I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea.’

‘Why not?’ Nott asks. Caleb opens his mouth for a reply, but Beau gets there first, a broad grin slowly taking over her face. ‘Because this is _Molly.’_

‘Exactly,’ Caleb says, the corner of his mouth crooking upwards. ‘Do you remember the skein?’

‘Or when he asked that guy in Alfield to ‘give me whatever’s strongest?’ Beau grins.

‘Or when he went straight for the firewhiskey when we got to the Evening Nip?’ Caleb continues.

‘Or when he bought out that mead vendor at the Harvest Close thing?’

‘Or when he spent two hours at Pumat’s looking for ‘something interesting’ before Prime kicked him out?’

‘Or when we were in the swamp place and Jester went to the apothecary sell that troll heart and he came out with at least a dozen packages and bottles that we weren’t allowed to touch?’

‘What are you saying?’ Fjord asks as Nott starts to snigger. Beau is laughing again as well, and even Caleb is chuckling.

‘Oh fuck,’ Fjord groans as the realization hits him. He drags a hand over his face before he shakes his head, smiling despite himself as Nott turns to yell at Caduceus, who is walking towards them with his bag of travel teacups in one hand and his dented copper kettle in the other. ‘Hey, Mr. Clay! You better make this a strong one!’

‘Oh yes,’ Beau grins. ‘This is gonna be one hell of a cuppa.’


	5. Don't touch the seaman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cree tells the half-orc the truth and subsequently has the worst dream ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said that last chapter would be the last Molly mourning thing? Yeah, no. Although in the true spirit of Critical Role, this chapter contains more than enough puns (hopefully) to make up for it.

_‘Whatever grace brought him back to us...maybe it was your carelessness that took him from us again.’_

She regrets the words the moment she says them and she sees the half-orc suppress a flinch. But that does not mean she takes them back. It is true, after all, and it is nothing they both do not already know.

Cree knows the half-orc knows. She can feel the guilt and grief radiating off his form from here. He doesn't say anything, but his mouth twists and one of his fists clenches before he breathes out, turns on his feet and leaves the bar without another word.

Cree doesn’t care. If she had been truly angry with the half-orc, she might have gone after him to finish by claw what she started by words. If Lucien was here, she probably would have. And he probably would have praised her for it.

But he isn’t.

And Cree needs a fucking drink.

\---

_Something was… off. Because the lavender tiefling in the gaudy coat was definitely Lucien, but he wasn’t_ Lucien. _Cree was not sure what happened to him, and he was not very forthcoming about any details when she asked about it, but it was clear that he was not the same._

_Because Lucien had been cold. Cruel, at times. He seemed to like his followers well enough, but Cree had never been foolish enough to think he actually cared one lick about them._

_But this one, this Mollymauk. There was a warmth, a joy to him that Cree had never seen before. And the way he sat in the midst of his companions, one arm haphazardly flung around the shoulders of the giant black-haired woman, clinking his cup against the flask of the small, weird looking halfling and shooting flirtatious grins at both the half-orc and the grubby human sitting across from him… that was something Lucien had never done._

_Cree watched him from the bar, clutching her own cup of milk and trying to tell the fur in her neck to stay down. She had loved Lucien, in a way; she was not sure if she could like this new person._

\---

That night, after getting herself well and truly fucked up courtesy of the Evening Nip’s finest brandy, Cree has the weirdest dream she has had in a very long time.

In her earlier dreams, it was always Lucien. And he was alone, a cold and lonely soul looking for… something. Something he will never find, and Cree has no way to help him.

But this isn’t Lucien. This is the Mollymauk. Cree doesn’t know how she can tell the difference, but she can.

And he is not alone.

There is a pale, dark-haired half-elf standing on his left, wearing a cloak as glossy deep-black as a raven’s wing, and a burly man with the deep tan and leather skin of a sailor standing on his right. Cree has never seen these people before but they seem to know her. And judging by the fierce glare of the half-elf and the surly look of the sailor, they are not too happy with her right now.

And neither is Mollymauk.

It’s funny. Lucien had been angry often, and he had scared Cree more than once in his freezing fury. But Mollymauk doesn’t look angry. He looks upset but it’s a sadness, more disappointment than anger. And his sadness burns red-hot, hotter than the fires at the Pentamarket forges and it terrifies Cree far more than Lucien had ever done.

‘ _Cree,’_ Mollymauk says softly, the sound echoing through the empty space around them. ‘ _Cree, I know you’re upset.’_

There it is again. That kindness that Lucien never had.

‘ _Cree, you have to remember and I’m telling you now.’_ A ray of light from the gods know where slants in and sparks off the tieflings sudden crooked grin. A grin that is so alien for the person Lucion used to be that it creeps Cree the fuck out, even in her dream. ‘ _I’m telling you now to leave my seaman the fuck alone.’_

And with that, he vanishes, leaving only his two companions who are still staring Cree down with eyes full of ice.

_‘You touch the seaman,’_ the sailor adds, a booming voice that thunders down Cree’s spine, ‘ _and you touch us. So don’t.’_

And he is gone. Only the half-elf stands there now, glaring daggers at the cowering tabaxi. ‘ _Don’t come for the seaman again,’_ he says, before his demeanor melts and he gives Cree a roguish smile and a wink. ‘ _But if you see the blue one. Tell her she’s doing great.’_

Cree has no clue what the fuck that is supposed to mean. But then the half-elf is gone and she finally wakes up, gasping and bathing in sweat (which, for a tabaxi, is quite a feat), with Mollymauk’s warning still ringing in her ears.

‘I won’t,’ she mutters into the gloom of her decrepit bedroom. ‘I… Lucien, I promise. I’ll stay away from the seaman.’

A gust of wind whistles through the wooden slats that keep the bedroom window slightly ajar. To Cree, still breathing heavily and resisting the urge to curl up and burrow herself under the ratty blankets, it sounds remarkably like very familial laughter.


	6. Jester concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb asks Nott if she thinks Jester is okay. There's one way to find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am still reeling and all through that scene I have never wanted to hug Jester more in my entire life. She looked so upset and I hope someone (looking at you, Oskar I mean Fjord) thinks of genuinely asking her if she's doing okay.

It’s late. So late in fact that it is nearing early morning again when all the stories have been shared, all the boom sticks have been dropped and all the wine has been drunk and Caleb and Nott find themselves alone in a room that is so luxurious it’s terrifying.

No joke; Nott really is a little scared she will get lost in the massive, _massive_ four poster bed. The mattress is about ten times her size, as is the blanket and frankly, her fear of slipping down the bed in her sleep and being smothered by the mountain of feather down is not unreasonable. But as she tries to negotiate her way into the bed and then into a spot that feels nice and soft but not _too_ warm, she hears a shifting noise from the other end of the room. Followed by Caleb clearing his throat and asking: ‘Nott?’

Nott stops pummeling one of the pillows into submission for a second. ‘Yes, Caleb?’

There is a brief pause, as there usually is when Caleb wants to say something but needs to find the perfect words for it first. ‘You…. are better at reading faces than I am. Can you tell me.’

He pauses. Nott uses the moment to throw another pillow to the side of the bed because she is barely even used to having just the one. Who in the hell needs _seven_ pillows in their bed? Who even has a bed that’s _big enough_ for _seven pillows?_

‘Can you tell me,’ Caleb continues slowly, ‘if the blue one… if Jester looked okay to you?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Nott replies, just as slowly after chewing her lip for a second. ‘But that was a lot. Wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, it was,’ Caleb says softly. ‘It was.’

Nott can’t see his face. Which means Caleb can’t see her face, which is good. Because if he could, he would see her watching him with a small, soft smile and she knows he hates that. Or pretends to hate that.

‘Caleb,’ she says gently, ‘why do you ask me? It’s a lot easier to go and ask Jester herself, you know.’

A hoarse huff that is almost a laugh. Nott’s mouth twists at the sound of it. ‘Ja. Goodnight, Nott.’

Caleb also can’t see Nott rolling her eyes before she resumes her pillow punching. ‘Goodnight, Caleb.’

 

It’s a good question, though. So good in fact, that it does not leave Nott alone, long after a soft, rhythmic snoring has told her that Caleb is fast asleep.

It takes a bit of tossing and turning and wrestling with the comforter, but eventually she has one arm free. She does not sit up, because the comforter might not let her back in if she does, but she closes her eyes, brings one hand to her ear and one to her mouth and whispers, as articulately as she can: ‘Jester. Jester, are you okay? You can reply to this message.’

The response takes a long time. Nott almost gives up waiting for it, because after everything that’s happened tonight it would not surprise her if Jester fell unconscious the moment her head hit her pillow.

She hasn’t, though. Because in the wee hours of the morning, in a room high in the Lavish Chateau, a reply to Nott’s question drifts through the air in the form of a very soft, almost inaudible sniffle.


	7. Yeza meets the Nein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK so I’ve not seen the latest episode yet so I have no idea how close to canon this actually is, but hear me out: at some point, Nott/Veth has to tell Yeza what she’s been up to for the past months? Years? Idk. And then this happens

And so, late at night, when all others have long since found their way to sleep, Veth takes Yeza away. Just a little ways away, well in shouting distance for when something goes wrong, but far enough away that no one will bother them.

And there, in that quiet darkness, she tells him everything. About how she met Caleb (‘and he’s so smart and clever and he knows _magic_ and he’s going to change me, I know he is!’) and Fjord (‘He’s an asshole but he’s OK also he has wet dreams sometimes and we almost released some kind of eldritch abomination for him but we didn’t, so that's good I guess’) and Yasha (‘She looks scary but she loves flowers and she’s actually very sad so be nice to her’) and Beau (‘She’s got a bo staff and she thinks that’s funny because she’s named Beau. That’s basically all you need to know. Also she can punch the living shit out of anyone, for real’) and Jester (‘We’re _detectives_ and we’re really good at it! Also her mom is some kind of fancy prostitute and she loves drawing dicks on things, so be careful where you put your notes’/’Oh so that’s why...’/’Yeah. Sorry. Should’ve warned you about that before’) and Caduceus (‘He’s creepy but the cool kind of creepy and he makes very good tea and we found him in a graveyard’).

And Yeza laughs and shakes his head but is secretly horrified because ‘You fought a _manticore?_ Veth, you could’ve been _killed!’_

And then Veth has to tell him that yes, one of their party was tragically killed some time ago. On the Glory Run Road, which seemed, in hindsight, like it should have been a omen.

And Yeza grows serious and tells her that he’s so sorry and what was this person like?

And Veth is quiet for a moment before she tells him about Molly and his weird brand of kindness and his charm and his lies and his _fucking weird backstory_ that they never got to delve into and how that still frustrates her sometimes, but mostly.

Mostly.

‘He was a good friend,’ she tells Yeza at last. ‘But to be honest: we now mostly remember him because of that one time he covered his dick in scrambled egg and fucked up a hospital.’ She grins and reaches out for her long empty cup, then thinks better of it and raises her never-ending flask instead. ‘Long may he reign.’


End file.
